


I Am The Shadow On Your Skin And I'll Be Gone Very Soon

by lovebashed



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebashed/pseuds/lovebashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete reflects on the Summer Of Like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am The Shadow On Your Skin And I'll Be Gone Very Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a [We Are Cities](http://we-are-cities.livejournal.com/94707.html#cutid1) prompt, and a Relient K song. Written in 2007. Some of the quotes are by Pete Wentz. Many thanks to turnyourankle for the beta.

1

He has started to feel like a goodbye note on regular days: a sad, over dramatic gesture, tired of the same shit that he can’t seem to let go of, but is still somewhat willing to try; like a failure in a 'I’ve fucked this up' kind of way. On regular days, because on bad ones he would like to be able to crawl up under his skin and be left there forever.

 

2

“You’re the most messed up kid I’ve ever known,” Mikey says to Pete one evening as an afterthought. Pete would think more of the meaning behind the sentence if he wasn’t so caught up in tasting sparkling wines and everything he could find left in sticky, stained paper cups. 

“Here, try this,” he says instead, pushing a half empty cup of apple juice mixed with Coke and -- really, are those marinara cherries? -- towards Mikey before walking back to the make-do kitchen in the middle of the bus. He doesn’t see Mikey wrinkling up his nose and even if he did, he wouldn’t know if it was at him, or at the lipstick marks smudged against the brim of the cup.

 

3

He feels like he’s living most of his life missing someone. The people change but the feeling is the same. It’s not a good way to live but it’s the only way he knows how. It’s like a long depression, but the depression is what’s normal to him, so, really, it’s the happy days that end up fucking with his mind. He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling of pure, authentic happiness. He gets drunk on it but like after any good intoxication, hangover follows.

 

4

Under his fingers Mikey felt like nothing he had ever touched: too many sharp edges and too little soft places to grasp at. All bones and limbs and bones. But there was something incredibly important in the way it all seemed to click in place anyway; Pete’s fingers digging into slender hips; Mikey’s hands in his dyed hair, palms covering ears and muffling all sounds coming from behind the door.

 

5

“I don’t think I’m made for this kind of happiness.”

“I know, but enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

6

In October, it’s the oatmeal mornings he misses the most. When the sun was high in the sky but early winds made the air pleasantly cool. They would sit on sunburned grass, plastic bowls between legs all pastel shades without remorse. They would pretend that they had come to the tour as regular people, not as rock stars.

It had felt sort of fabulous for a while.

 

7

It was easy to fall into it. It happened quietly without loud fireworks or booming cannon blasts. It was comfortable and calm like something they had missed ever since leaving home. One day Pete would be showing Mikey how to do this and this with the bass guitar while still managing to look cool and the next moment they would be caught up in hips and teeth, Mikey leaning against the wall, Pete holding him there. They would lie together on bridges at night and make up games for boring afternoons when they should have been getting ready for shows. 

 

8

“You’re the most messed up kid I’ve ever known.”

“I know, but enjoy me while I’m here.”

 

9

The summer of 2005 was a good one. It’s two years after that he can truly start appreciating it in its entirety. 

He gets chills again on stage. When Patrick starts singing and the lights hit the heads of thousands of jumping kids, coloring the air above them electric blue and then ghostly white, the hairs of his arms rise like cat's, and he feels like bursting, bursting. 

And then it’s his turn to make the crowd wild, so he steps up to his mic, feeling a pang of melancholy, maybe even nostalgia, when he opens his mouth, not meaning to repeat the words he couldn’t help but think about days ago, but suddenly needing to say them out loud at least once in his life.

“Guess what?” He says to the crowd but the message is meant for someone else. 

“I love you like Sid loved Nancy. Maybe even like Morrissey loves Morrissey.” Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he walks away from the screaming mass of people feeling a weight slowly lifting from his chest. The emotion doesn’t choke him like he thought it would, which takes him by surprise. 

After the concert, he laughs a little louder, smiles a little brighter and sleeps a full night without waking up, not even once.

 

10

It isn’t usual for him to be aware of the specific date or month even, especially when they’re on the road. Numbers are tedious and there are always people around them taking care of those things. All he is required to do is wrap around his bass and play, shake hands and give interviews. 

He was disturbingly aware of the date that day. Even if he hadn’t been, Patrick would have made sure he remembered with his constant ‘ _what up_ ’s and ‘ _are you sure you don’t want to give him a call at least_ ’s. He hated the pitying looks the most. Patrick’s ridiculously good at giving them. 

“Would you at least call him?” Patrick ranted following him around the kitchen as Pete opened cupboards looking for a pack of rolled oats. It had to be somewhere. “Just to, you know, let him know you’re happy for him and Alicia.”

Aha! Pete smiled as he pulled a dusty package from behind a syrup bottle.

“Dude? Dude? Are you even listening to me?”

“I appreciate your concern,” Pete said dryly. “But there is nothing I could possibly say to him that wouldn’t end up sounding like a bad soap.”

“C’mon man, that’s not true-“

“Oh, Mikey,” Pete whined for effort. “I’ll always love you, promise me you won’t forget us. _Oh_ and give _all my best_ to the misses.” He grimaced disgustedly. “Besides, maybe you haven’t noticed but I moved on. I have a pretty little Barbie doll to play house with and-“

“Fine! I give up,” Patrick interrupted throwing his hands up in the air stomping out of the room.

“So you’re not gonna help me with the porridge?” Pete yelled after him, fingers digging into the cardboard package spilling flakes on the floor. 

 

11

_sometimes when i am thinking of you, i mean her, but usually i mean you._

 

12

The first time Mikey’s fingers find a straight line to the cup of Pete’s palm, wrapping around the hand giving it a light squeeze, they’re lying on the ground crushing summer flowers under their heads. It’s such a simple gesture but it makes them both smile like they had made up a completely new way to communicate and they both know the language by heart.

Mikey doesn’t pull away like before, doesn’t desperately rummage through his pockets for a lifeline in the form of a cigarette, holds his hand and looks away when it becomes hard to find anything else to do.

 

13

 _The best time of the year?_ Pete takes a moment before answering. “I like, change my mind more often than socks. But when it’s so hot you can’t breathe but you want to keep breathing, and when it’s so cold you should freeze your ass off but you won’t because there’s always someone who won’t let you.”


End file.
